


ichariba chode

by infinitehearts



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Language of Flowers, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitehearts/pseuds/infinitehearts
Summary: 行逢りば兄弟 'ichariba chode' - "though we meet but once, even by chance, we are friends for life"Fate has a funny way of getting things done.alternately,All soulmates are marked by flowers in three categories: family, friends, and lovers. The results of overlapping categories create turmoil. Dan finds it impossible to bear, when Phil is blissfully coasting along, most of the time.





	1. Prologue

            The puddles formed more quickly than normal, leaving those in soft or open toed shoes disgruntled. The weather rarely ever played nice. For most, after spending their lives in a place where skies were dreary nine times out of ten, they should have all expected it more than they did. At least most weren’t completely unprepared. Umbrellas covered heads, a patchwork quilt of patterns, designs, and colors flooding the streets where only the young venture into puddles or get too close to the edge of the sidewalk.

            People squeezed together close so as not to disrupt the foot traffic. Nothing could be done about the lack of personal space, but if someone was looking for personal space, they couldn’t have found it in London, Birmingham, Bristol, or even York, for that matter. The number of people in such small spaces was far too vast for personal space to be contemplated for long, considering everyone had somewhere to be, and vanishing time to arrive there. There weren’t enough seats on the tube or in cabs to try and keep them all dry. Oh, how so many wished for the comfort of their warm beds and hot tea.

            There were plenty of chances to meet someone that you didn’t know could change your life. To find a dry nook in a café and find a new flower with a story yet to be told, resting on an arm, a leg, or even a shoulder, waiting lines curling, twisting, and bending to form a blossom and a single stem. They weren’t all that much to some people, just a reminder of stability, of the people who wouldn’t leave them, but for others, they were lifelines, the reason to step away from the ledge for one more day.

            Flowering wasn’t all bad. But the bad was like getting buried alive. It reared its ugly head and was nothing but a pest. The good was overdramatic, usually, but it tried to make up for the areas in which nature was still sorely lacking.

            An empty street, the margin filled in its momentary still by dozens of pedestrians, frantic to cross before the cars and busses filled it yet again, just waiting to splash the stragglers who weren’t a safe distance away. Students, returning to their homes after spending hours filling out exam forms with about as much enthusiasm as they had for the downpour, or continuing to test, if only to escape another day of aching hands and an exhausted mind. Early birds heading home to make their dinner. Children playing in the park, one of the few green places that stayed green as the city grew out of its bounds as a village.

            York was home to a few more than forty thousand people.

            At the time, the rain was just a hindrance to all but two of the people there, one citizen and one lonely visitor. It wasn’t very meaningful in the moment. A quick bump of the shoulders in a fairly dry covered walkway, mumbled apologies, and then they were separated again. The visitor hadn’t found any appeal in University of York, and he walked away, too busy mumbling about how screwed he was because of how heavy the rain was and how his umbrella was sure to fly away with his apparent string of bad luck. The other ran off wordlessly, in a desperate attempt to make it to his last exam on time. (He made it, but barely.)

            Neither noticed they’d gained flowers until the next day, too late. Their fate was ill-timed, but it would rear its head again, in situations both lovely and horrific; forging a bond unlike most, that would only need a little nursing to be able to be put in their hands, a gift far more influential than a little accident would be expected to provide. Each left with too many possible candidates to narrow it down to just who the new flowers were for. Whoever they were, there would be a day it became at least a little more obvious.

            Accidents were just that, accidents. Some were tragic, fatal errors caught too late to rewrite. Others were predictable, designed, and for the best. Occasional, there were cases of the slightest motions creating the biggest changes. That was the power of the accident; a force that could be carefully tamed, painstakingly coerced, but never controlled.

 

 


	2. Chapter 1: Align

           The natural light coming in between the blinds was dim, and the only illumination coming from inside the room came from a twelve inch MacBook monitor. It was precariously stationed on top of a set of law journals on a messy black desk, and there was plenty of other evidence of sleepless nights scattered about the small dormitory. It was a little more lived in than it should have been. The duvet was messily hanging off the bed, its worn grey a sharp contrast to the powder blue sheets, even in dim lighting. Dirty clothes littered the floor next to an overfilled laundry hamper, and the closet door was just ajar enough to see there were more dirty clothes on the floor there.

            The brunette who lived in the room usually took much better care of himself and his possessions. Some of his classmates called him a clean freak, but he’d recently started devoting himself to nothing more than spending days on the ground contemplating life and staring longingly at his laptop screen. It was the only thing to really look at in his room, after all. The shit brown walls and oak doors were lackluster from the day he moved in, but it wasn’t exactly as if he had any choice but to tolerate them. He felt the need to make his parents proud, and getting his law degree would be the first step in doing that.

            If he was honest, he absolutely hated his classes. Law was the furthest thing from what he aspired to be in life. It was a stable career path though, and paid well from the first day, unlike acting, which he’d given up in secondary school. Fame was only ever a pipeline dream that led to heartache and wasting away in his experience.

            Maybe he felt so terrible because he’d turned 18 back in June, but nothing had really changed. There was always a stigma to becoming an adult, but the novelty wore off quickly. He had student loans piling up on his back, as he had quickly lost the perfect marks he’d once made after getting into the University of Manchester and the money to pay for his education that came with them, barely ate more than bowl noodles and shoddy takeout meals, and had more crises than any one person should.

            His only happiness came from the internet.

            When he came out of the worse of his slumps, he had found YouTube to be an excellent tool to aid in his procrastination of his studies. More specifically, one person who just happened to make YouTube videos.

            One who wanted to Skype that very minute.

            The familiar ringing noise was the only thing to make the brunette push himself off the floor for the first time that day for a reason other than to use the bathroom. This time, he crossed the room in a timely manner and sat down, clicking the button to accept the call.

            It was still astonishing that the other boy even wanted to talk to him.

            He’d made contact first, just a little after his 18th birthday. He hadn’t gotten an answer until nearly the end of the month, and it took him until the first week of July to muster up the courage to open the email he’d been sent back.

            It turned out that they were just as awkward as each other, and ever since they tried to make correspondence daily, if it was just five minutes in some obscure AOL chatroom or if it were a Skype call. He learned some of the major things about Phil (who's name he had already figured out thanks to his channel name, AmazingPhil), and while they weren't that different, Phil was five years older than he was and getting his graduate degree from university because he'd already gotten his bachelors. They didn’t go to the same school, and weren’t even remotely studying the same things, but he was nice and down-to-earth. Dan wanted to say he was the closest thing to an actual friend he had.

            “How’s your day been, Dan?”

            Dan took a moment to try and think of a way to make his day of sheer pain and terror, stemming from unrelenting worry nobody else seemed to understand, sound even halfway comprehensible. In the end, he settled for being vague. It wasn't depressing, it wasn't exactly a lie, and it would answer the question.

            “Nothing unusual. Pretty boring, actually.”

            So maybe it was a lie. But it was more polite than dragging Phil into his problems. Phil had always been genuine with him, never tried to exaggerate his days to seem more exciting, and took the time to address Dan's concerns about ending up being kidnapped and eaten the first time they had talked on Skype. It was nice.

            They talked about anything that came to mind, whether it be music tastes, anime recommendations, or the horrors of exams. Sometimes, they'd even talk about their flowers. It was a little more personal than most of their conversations were, but as time passed on, it felt normal. It was rare to have a flower and no clue who it belonged to.

            Finding someone else who understood how hard it was not knowing took a little bit of the burden off. Flowers had been a lifeline for Dan a few times when he was in secondary school, suffering through every bit of the hell that his classmates put him through. Life wasn't kind all the time. His childhood seemed to have more mistakes in it than anyone else he knew. Telling Phil the stories always ended with Phil sharing a story of his own, and it made the mistakes feel more likable. He could laugh at them for the first time instead of finding shame in them.

            If he hadn't been so used to Dan's dorm being cleaner than it current was on camera, Phil wouldn't have said a word about the mess. But he tried to be observant about his friend’s behaviors and emotions, because he couldn't believe somebody so genuine could be plagued by so many troubles. He didn't feel bad for him in a pitying way, but he wished that there were more he could do sometimes to make things a little less stressful on Dan. He was 18, after all. He had to find some kind of joy in life before he had to commit to working himself to death.

            “Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you with a messy room, and you're always chiding me when I've left something laying around, even though you don't have to be in the mess. “

             "I'm _fine_ , just a little tired."

             It wasn't the truth, by any means, but he didn't want to be a bother. That would just be cruel, in his opinion at least.

             Phil might've let Dan get away with it if he hadn't stressed his fine so much when it was clearly obvious from his rumpled clothes and the darker than normal circles under his eyes that there was no way in the world he could possibly be fine.

             " _C'mon,_ do you think I'm stupid? You're not alright, it’s obvious. Tell me what's wrong, and we'll figure out how to fix it."

             A sarcastic comeback hit Dan's tongue, and as much as he wanted to chide and sneer at the idea of needing help, he couldn't bring himself to. If it had been anyone else, he could've with no regrets, no doubts they were just pitying him. But almost three months in, he knew Phil only ever had his best interests in mind when he asked questions, and was quick to back himself up if Dan got too uncomfortable.

            “It's just…” Dan paused, wincing a little as he tried to figure out how he wanted to word his sentence. “I've not been feeling very happy here. Law is a good degree and stable, and I should pay attention to my lectures, but I can't even be bothered to bloody go to my lectures anymore they make me feel so miserable.”

            The brunette let out a long sigh. He should have learned months ago that Phil was smarter than he seemed sometimes. He'd always been able to tell if Dan was sick or tired, and Dan knew that he shouldn't have expected anything different this time. Sometimes he just felt like he wasn't digging his own grave anymore, and was digging Phil's instead. He had always had trouble dealing with all the stress he caused himself more often than not through procrastination, and he wasn't sure that trying to explain to someone else got rid of some of the heavy weight he had to bear. He just felt like he was handing it off to someone else to hold onto instead, and they wouldn't let him take it back.

            It was one thing to let all the pressure break him, in the end, and a completely different thing to hand off the weight to someone else and accidentally end up letting them break. That burden would always hang over his head, and he would never be able to let it go.  He couldn't deal with even the thought of breaking someone else because he found his life's responsibilities too troublesome.

            There wasn't anything that he couldn't bear the burden of by himself, that's what he thought. He wasn't going to let his fate affect other people's fate more than it had to. It's why he hated his flowers. They were lifelines in the worst times, only a fallback plan to remember there were people who still cared about him, who wouldn't judge him and his decisions. But if the circumstances weren't extreme and desperate, he loathed the flowers on his left shoulder. They were reminders that no matter how hard he tried, he would always let his weight off onto others. He'd yet to tell this to Phil. He'd expressed his concerns about having a flower with a counterpart on someone else he didn't know, but never why it was such a concern to him.

            There was no way in the world that he thought that Phil had the same reasons to think about his flower without a known counterpart.

            Phil knew there was something wrong with Dan, but he didn't think it would be so extreme. He just expected it to be something that he could fix. Something easy to fix. That was how every other problem had been. Easily fixable. This one was tougher. But he wasn't going to give up easily. The solution wasn't obvious, but after spending a moment silent, thinking, he hoped that he could be the bearer of good news.

             "Maybe you just need a change of scenery, a quick break from your lectures."

             Dan didn't mention that he'd done half of that already. He stayed quiet, because if he knew Phil, he knew that he wasn't done yet. He was one of the most creative people he knew, and he didn't know him extremely well quite yet.

              "Come visit me this weekend! York's quite a distance from Manchester, but the tube ride will give you a chance to think and I'll pick you up at the station. It'll be like a sleepover! Maybe I can even convince you to start a YouTube channel, if I show you how I make it fun."

              Dan wasn't sure that one weekend away from Manchester would help him very much, but he couldn't convince himself to say no to Phil. Not when he seemed so excited. It couldn't be terrible. After all, he considered Phil his best friend. He was always trying to make sure that things were going well and that when they talked, it wasn't just one sided.

              Maybe he didn't know Phil extremely well, but he knew enough to know that Phil wasn't going to do anything with the intention to make things worse on him.

               "Okay, I can do that."

               It was a slow reply, and Dan knew that he'd spend the next two days trying to convince himself he hadn't made a mistake. He'd also have to find a way to be able to start being able to act like a human again, but he felt a little better already, knowing that he could get away. If things went well, he could go visit Phil more often, and he could get out of his ungodly four shit brown walls with the mismatched grey under the chair rail. There was barely enough room for him, but he considered the thought of being able to have Phil come to visit him too. It would break the slump of routine, if nothing else. He knew that Phil would have nowhere to sleep if he asked him to come, so they would only ever be able to spend the day together if he came, but Dan figured that sometimes, it would be better than nothing.

             When he could see the black-haired boy, or even just hear him, talk to him, it felt like time froze for just a little bit. Hours could escape him in the span of what felt like mere minutes of centuries, gifted to him just to take his time and tell Phil everything he wanted to know. The clock was always his reminder that time kept moving even if it didn't feel like it did. He didn't feel like he was just a complete failure. Everything he did wrong could be overlooked, because Phil had his own quirks and didn't hold them back. He could finally catch it break, was what it was. Somebody let him slack and complain, and didn't try to make a fuss out of it.

             The moon was bright in the slits between the blinds when Dan slid out of the chair at his desk and headed out of the room towards the shared bathroom with clean pajamas.

             He only had to last two days. Then he got a reprieve from trying to not slip up, pay attention to his lectures and complete his assignments, and deal with his classmates who treated him only slightly better than they treated houseplants.

            Counting off his time relative to his trip was going to be the only way he got anything done. There were plenty of papers he'd put off until the week they were due graded on his dresser, but this time, the hours couldn't tick away quickly enough.

             Time was a construct of society, more than anything. Idle tapping and biting pens only could fill so much space. Time was a consistence to bind together populations, while Dan wanted to push himself from the masses and scream that there was no truth to a world bound together.

            Unless the words population and Phil were put in the same sentence. That was the one place he wanted to be. It would be worth it. To not feel so alone and out of place, to find a place to become genuine in secret, even if he had to let society define him.

            He couldn’t help but stretch, making his chair squeak much to the disapproval of the girl working diligently to his right, giving a fleeting glance down towards his phone where it sat in his backpack. Dr. Mulligan would kill him, if he thought about picking it up, but Phil’s name on the screen, front and center, made him question how bad death would be.

            He stopped as soon as he realized it would put his trip in jeopardy.

            More people than he remembered being in the lecture pushed him back away from the door he was already stumbling over his feet to get to when it was one o’clock and he finally got a chance to look at the text he’d gotten almost twenty minutes ago.

            _Phil: can’t talk tonight, I promise I’ll make up for it._

_Phil: can’t wait to see you this weekend_

            Dan was just happy his friend thought enough of him to tell him about the change of plan ahead of time. It did dampen his spirits, but it wasn’t a problem that Malteasers couldn’t remedy.

            He was too giddy to fall far.

            Phil really wished that he didn’t have to finish his app for his Post-Production course in two nights, and that he had the concentration to talk to Dan and work diligently. There was no point in lying to himself though. If he finished in one night, he could spend the next night waiting like he was supposed to at the tube station instead of leaving frantically late and hoping Dan didn’t arrive before he did, and get it submitted on time Saturday morning.

            Finishing his app shouldn’t have been extremely hard, except for the amount of time his hand ghosted over his shoulder. His left shirt sleeve had been pushed up for nearly fifteen minutes, and there was a vague itch-like sensation, but it couldn’t be an itch. It didn’t feel like an itch, and the one time he broke down and let his nails rake across the daffodils that were normally hidden, then the violet and the sedum, letting himself get distracted momentarily.

            Anyone would, if they had a flower that was the cure for a wounded heart.

            Phil had never felt the need to know what the flowers on his arm meant, except for the sedum. The daffodils had been there his entire life, and he’d caught the violet there only a few minutes after meeting Cat Valdes, but the sedum had worried him for two years.

            He didn’t tell Dan about the panic attacks he had sometimes, when it felt like he’d never meet the person he’d got the sedum from. Because it would be strange to disclose without the entire story, he didn’t tell Dan that he hadn’t had a panic attack since the day he’d opened the first email Dan had sent him.

            These days, he wished he hadn’t asked the florist he got his mum flowers from what the flower was, and what it even meant. He liked knowing, but he didn’t like knowing that there was someone who’s happiness relied on him out there suffering.

            That wasn’t why he panicked, though. He panicked because there was a chance the sedum would wilt, that he’d be too late to be there.

            The pain of a wilting flower was the worst pain in human life. Sudden, hard hitting, distressing. Local anesthetics could only numb so much tissue. It was why whole board rooms went silent, watching accountants and assistants shriek as they lost those that had been their lifelines. It was why some businesses closed days they weren’t supposed to, vacant in the busiest part of the season. Nobody questioned their grieving. Even fate couldn’t predict everything. Some forces refused to be controlled.

            Flowers had evolved to mark those closest to a person, and to tell a person those closest to them. But death was only evaded for so long.

            Phil got back to work after he took a trip to the small bathroom in his little flat. It wasn’t much, of course, but at least it would mean that there would be a place other than the floor for Dan to sleep when he arrived the next night.

            The bed slats creaked once the room was dark. As far as he knew, Dan didn’t have any kind of wounded heart. He couldn't be the wounded heart his fate had tied him to, because he was sure that he'd have remembered meeting somebody like Dan. It was why he was so quick to offer to let Dan come visit. He wanted to properly meet him, know his voice, his mannerisms, his quirks in more detail than he could ever be told through a computer screen.

            The passing fire engine wasn’t any more of a nuisance to his work than his own thoughts.

            The stars had always soothed Dan, but for once, he didn’t need them. Crystalline blue eyes danced behind his eyelids instead.

            His left was his dominant hand, always on top, but he curled around himself with his right on top for once, cradling his shoulder in a way he’d never admit to, even if he was aware it happened.

            Eight hours until they could meet in York.

 

 


	3. Chapter 2: Merge

            An old woman sneezed far too close for his liking. The mother with the two toddlers couldn't keep her youngest from screaming at the top of her lungs because she had to sit next to her only slightly older brother, snot oozing from his nose like water from the tap. It felt like the ride was never going to end.

            It wouldn't be worth it if he didn't know that Phil would be waiting for him.

            He didn't know if he had anything he needed in his backpack, which had been packed in a complete rush, right after his last class let out and he had around fifteen minutes to make it to the tube station. He’d dumped his books and notes haphazardly onto the bed, rummaging through drawers for boxers and socks that were probably clean. During a crisis, a shower wasn’t high on his to-do list, let alone laundry. He thought he'd grabbed enough for the next two nights, but he wasn't sure. If not, at least Phil wouldn't laugh at him.

            He hoped in the worst-case scenario that Phil wouldn't laugh at him.

            Things were already going wrong, but he felt at least slightly less miserable than he did in his dormitory. Or, he did feel less miserable, until some rude businessman started staring at him. He knew that he hadn't done anything wrong, and he only had twenty minutes until he'd be with Phil, but he didn't feel comfortable under the man's stare. It was awkward.

            He really didn’t like being objectified.

            There was no room for him to curl into himself any further, and he shielded himself as much from view with his backpack as possible. If he’d been anyone else, he would have gotten up and told him off for it. If it had been any other week, he would have stood up and told him off for it.

            But he still wasn’t through with his crisis, entirely. He could function at a basic level, but only at a basic level. Anything a routine couldn’t be made for couldn’t get accomplished.

            His entire trip was going to be a wild card, really, in hoping that he could be semi-normal around Phil, instead of turning into a gelatinous blob on the floor with little mental capacity for anything rational. It was a gamble, of course, but he seemed to find his trip to visit Phil motivation to get as far as he was, and his semi-rational thought process figured he was headed up during the duration of his stay with Phil, not downwards.

*****

            It was mere luck that got Phil to the station on time. First, he’d lost the keys to his flat. Leaving without his keys wasn’t an option, considering as he didn’t trust his neighbors to let him in the door downstairs, and he didn’t trust them to keep out of his place if he left the door unlocked so that he and Dan could get in. It wasn’t like he had much in the first place, and what he did have, he’d at least like to not have to replace. Being a YouTuber was fun, and he made quite a bit more money off it than he ever thought he would, considering that nothing was a pretty normal salary to get from the Internet, but it didn’t always mean that his bills got paid on time without a little help from his parents.

            He found his keys in between the couch cushions with twenty minutes to get to the tube station platform. If he ran part of the way, he’d make it on time for certain, even if he got a little distracted along the way. Until he got caught in traffic. Literally.

            The crosswalk was full of people passing between sidewalks, and even though most were halfway across, he still figured he would make it before people started down the road again.

            His name was Phil Lester, for crying out loud. He knew better than to assume, but he was prone to making the same mistakes repeatedly. And it seemed like out of all the people he knew, he was the only one who could trip over thin air.

            If he’d been a little further from the center of the street, he would have made it to the sidewalk. Instead, he was in the way of an oncoming car, and he narrowly ducked out of the way of getting hit. And that began the cycle that felt like it was never ending, as it seemed there was always another bus or another cab right where he needed to be walking. He lost five minutes by the time he made it to the other sidewalk.

            Another minute was wasted trying to catch his breath.

            If he had stumbled one more time, fallen, or ended up getting stopped by somebody asking for directions, he would have been late.

            The train was already opening its doors by the time he showed up on the platform, panting.

*****

            The eyes didn’t leave Dan the entire time he forced himself to his feet. His feet trembled with every step he took. He kept his head down until he was sure the train had left from behind him, taking the man with the wild eyes that bore too deeply into Dan away with it.

            He knew the crowd would be thick, but he’d never expected it to be quite so hard to find someone. Not when it felt like every fiber of the universe was working to make sure he never forgot those blue eyes. The rest of Phil was less elaborate, but he didn’t think any less of his friend because he was ordinary. Especially because the cascade of navy into sapphire and cobalt and then into the faintest green before meeting the irises of Phil’s was hauntingly beautiful. His eyes and his personality were what made Dan want to be Phil’s friend, not what he looked like.

            Dan didn’t want to think about the idea of his friendship with Phil not working out. They got along so well online, and yet, the chance of doing something to fuck up the first good thing in his life. The first good thing in what felt like years.

            His family members were peonies. He’d found that out from Adrian, his younger brother. Siblings occasionally had the same flower, and Adrian was far keener to investigate his flowers than Dan was. He was also relatively loose lipped, and far more prideful of the markings on his chest than most.

            “They’re peonies, Dan. You’re a peony.” Adrian had entered his room with, a knock or a warning of any sort fleeting his mind.

            “And?” Dan had prompted, his focus on Pokémon FireRed unfazed by his brother’s rude entrance.

            “I know that your flowers are peonies too. Don’t act like you’re not the least bit curious what they mean.”

            The room fell silent, save for the little beeps and whirs coming from the GameBoy Advance in Dan’s hands. He knew that Adrian liked to challenge him because they were so close in age and their parents didn’t pay much attention to their activities, but he was rarely in the mood to humor him and his outlandishness.

            They didn’t get along well at the time because they were far too similar. Dan got along better with him now, although there would still be years to go until they took advantage of their relationship as brothers. Dan was leaving a phase of resentment that Adrian was settling into well. That’s how siblings worked.

            “You know, so why don’t you just tell me and let me get back to my game?”

            “It’s not that simple. Peonies have lots of meanings. Compassion, shame, indignation, a happy life, prosperity.” Adrian probably had continued, but Dan had only barely listened long enough to catch the tail end of the first list Adrian had rattled off.

            The idea of shame being how his family felt of him was upsetting. Only the universe knew the exact path to life and the reasons to the flora on his bicep, but people had catalogued flower meanings before blossoms ever started appearing on skin. Shame hurt his pride, and if his perception was anything, the fact he was older and _Adrian_ was setting the expectations for him only made it worse.

            Maybe knowing was what set his downhill spiral off in full force.

            Phil ended up finding Dan before Dan had calmed himself enough to move from the train platform. If it were Cat, he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about reaching out and tapping her on the shoulder to get her to look up. But Dan was curled into himself, tugging at his left shirt sleeve and Phil thought he looked spooked out of his mind.

            It was like the world depended on nobody seeing Dan's flowers, on everybody not knowing if there was a new flower coming to the surface.

            “Dan? Is it you, Dan? It’s me, Phil.” Maybe it was a bit much, but it eased his mind of Dan not recognizing him at first glance.

            Dan looked up, the voice familiar to his ears, and he gave a small nod. “I’m Dan.”

            He felt as if he looked pitiful, with his backpack on and all curled in on himself like he was going to his first day of secondary school again. The simple fact of it was, meeting people meant a chance for flowers.

            Phil was the one person he’d be alright to have a flower for, and with his luck, there wouldn’t be one. He wanted to check as much as he didn’t want to check.

            “My flat’s right around the block, so I figured we could walk, if that’s alright?” Phil questioned, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

            He didn’t like the crowd in the station any more than he liked getting up before noon, although it wasn’t as crowded as he’d seen it around holidays. He’d not thought to get food for the weekend, so he figured there would be lots of take out, and maybe Phil’d got ahead of himself again.

            Dan let out a quiet chuckle, looking at Phil, who felt more like a stranger in person than he did when they were talking on Skype. “Walking is fine. It'll let me stretch a little bit if nothing else.”

            The only noises they made as the exited the Underground were the sounds of footsteps. The gusty winds whistled between the buildings, and there was plenty of chatter from other passing individuals. Children shouted back and forth at one another as they passed the park, parents chasing after them as the sun fell low on the horizon.

            “It's weird, you know. Not being able to find something to say now.” Dan mumbled, glancing over at Phil, trying to resist the urge to glance at his shoulder as he did so.

            “No, it's not. Friends don't have to talk every second they're together. It's quiet because we don't have to say anything. It's understood things are going to be awkward. That's who we are.” Phil replied, a chuckle escaping his lips before he pointed at the building in front of them. “It's not much inside, but it beats a Uni dormitory any day. And nobody judges you for all the delivery food.”

            “Anything is better than a dorm.” Dan cracked a smile, gesturing towards the building. “Are we going to keep standing here admiring the building, or are you going to take me inside?”

            Things were getting better, now. They had both been to blame for the tension, and it chalked up to the flowers that marred milky skin. It wasn’t worth it to pursue any kind of relationship with someone who didn’t flower for you. Not after fate allowed for knowing. Knowing that there wasn't going to be a definite break, that you wouldn't wait endlessly for someone who wasn't ever coming back. The only thing left was learning patience.

            Patience was a virtue that couldn’t always be learned.

            There were those who didn’t wait, who covered their flowers up and let the world come to them with open arms. It wasn’t exactly looked down upon, but refusing to nurture the bonds flowers confirmed was. It was strange, refuting fate’s plan that would eventually fold out, someday or another. Especially for someone that would one day flee, and no matter how long you waited, they wouldn't be coming back.

            “If you won’t look, I won’t.” Phil mumbled as they climbed the stairs to the flat.

            “What?” Dan asked, walking only a half-step behind Phil, glancing at the doors around him as he waited for Phil to get the door open.

            The keys jingled as Phil dropped them with a half-hearted laugh. He didn’t think Dan was daft by any means, but he’d hoped that Dan could’ve assumed exactly what he was talking about. He feared things were going to get awkward again.

            The click of the lock filled the silence, and Phil rubbed his sweaty palms down his black jeans before opening the door to his flat. “I won’t look at my flowers, to check, if you don’t.”

            Dan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gave a quick nod, his lip slightly pulled in by his teeth. It was second nature to check, to make sure that he wasn’t going to intrude. But Phil hadn’t been anything but kind, was offering Dan a place in his home for the weekend to get him away from his dreadful classes, and was only asking one thing of him. It would be rude not to grant his one wish.

            It would be strange, of course, but ignorance was bliss. He wouldn’t have to spend his weekend trying not to apologize for becoming a burden, wouldn’t have to think about the day that he and Phil would part paths and never see each other again, wouldn’t have to worry about whatever their future was.

            The flat was small, just barely more space than Dan’s dorm room. But it had a bathroom of its own, and a small kitchenette living room combo jutting off what he presumed was Phil’s bedroom. The couch looked worn, and if Dan were guessing, was probably something the previous tenants just hadn’t wanted to deal with getting rid of. The wallpaper was terrible, and there was little hope the walls were anything less than paper thin.

            No matter how bad it was, it still had its charms, a way of making Dan feel at home. A Tetris lamp lit up a corner in the kitchen, the familiarly shaped pieces scattered out in a way he was certain only Phil could accomplish. He wasn't exactly sure how it worked, seeing as only some of the pieces were lit, but he didn't bother questioning it. Video game cases were scattered about the floor in front of the television, most closed, but one was left open, the game left in the console.

            It felt like a place that Dan wanted to stay. The weekend would be over far too soon for his liking. He wasn’t sure if it was rude, but he found himself getting comfortable on the couch, browsing over the games in the floor.

            Phil laughed, flopping down beside Dan. “I was going to feed you before we started the gaming binge, but I suppose we’ll stop once the hunger pains get too bad. And Domino’s delivers, so we don’t have to leave, really. Going downstairs is tedious, but not too terrible, considering.”

            It’s strange to hear chatter in his ears instead of a Muse song, strange to be sharing a pizza with someone instead slipping into the dining hall for milk to add to his cereal on his way to his dorm. But it’s the kind of strange that he feels like he’d eventually get used to.

            It was even stranger waking up in the living room floor, Final Fantasy XII left abandoned on the PlayStation 2, still in his jeans. He didn't know exactly where he was, but he vaguely recognized the room he was in, and hadn't screamed. It came to him when Phil walked in, holding the last of the pizza Dan vaguely remembered ordering the night before. He scrambled to his feet, his fingers combing through his fringe like they did most mornings. He guesses they fell asleep playing Final Fantasy, and he was kicked off the couch, or more accurately, fell off sleeping.

            "You fell asleep first, so technically you should be cooking breakfast for me, but I realized I have nothing to make you cook, so we're going to get something. Probably pancakes, if we can find some, because breakfast is my choice."

            They end up getting those pancakes after Dan changes into not as wrinkled clothes and brushes his teeth. Having to go out for breakfast spurs their day to be spent outside of the flat, and while it's a little strange when someone does recognize of Phil, it doesn't happen as often as Dan had expected it to.

            He's surprised he's jealous that they don't acknowledge him. Any other time, he would want not to be noticed, but he just pushes it under the stairs, tells himself that he's only jealous they're taking up his limited time with Phil.

            The evening goes similarly to the night before. This time, though, Phil yawns at 1 AM and decides after checking the clock that they both need to go to bed. He manages to find an extra blanket and pillow for Dan in a cupboard, and tosses them at him as he watches Dan adjust on the couch.

            He wakes up to the sound of water, and he can't decide if Dan is washing his hands or using the toilet, so he slips his glasses on and heads to the kitchen, hoping there's enough cereal for them both. Phil's not sure when Dan's tube back to Manchester is, but he knows it's certain to be a long ride.

            Dan looked happier than Phil had ever seen him before this weekend. It’s nice, takes some of the worry that lingers in his head away. It’s what makes Phil positive Dan is okay. Sending him home isn’t something he truly wants to do, but he knows that classes are hard enough to keep up in as it is, and Dan should go if he wants to pass. University is hard, but it makes the rest of life easier.

            Dan leaves the bathroom a few minutes later, and they settle onto the couch with cereal. They laze about and chatter, but the excitement is all but gone. Getting back into routine won’t be fun, but it’ll have to happen.

            “I should film, but I think everyone will be alright waiting until Wednesday this week for a video.” Phil offhandedly comments.

            Dan shakes his head almost immediately. “Go ahead, I’ll watch you or something. I mean, you always tell me I should start my own channel, and if you’re going to continue peer pressure me, I need to know what I should be doing if I cave.”

            Phil notes the sarcasm, but gets up and heads to his bedroom anyways, tugging Dan along behind him.

            It’s strange, watching an AmazingPhil video from behind the camera. There’s plenty of little mistakes, plenty of fails, and way more than a few minutes of content. He supposes only the best makes the cut into the video everyone else sees.

            He’s not nearly as opposed, seeing how things work, but it seems like something he couldn’t just do. He’s not nearly confident enough, in his own opinion.

             Phil does little editing, spending more time explaining the different tools in the editing program to Dan. He feels like a teacher, doing so much talking all alone, but he thinks that Dan would enjoy being a YouTuber too, if he can just push him to try it.

            Getting back on the train Sunday night is difficult. It’s his pass to glance at his arm, to check his flowers, but the weekend deemed ignorance true bliss. Dan had been able to relax for the first time in years.

            Phil was his friend. He could say that much now with complete confidence. Going home was inevitable, but if it wasn’t because he already had the ticket, he would have picked a later train. Even just five more minutes without the responsibilities of university on his shoulders would have made him feel better.

            His stomach sank as he waved goodbye to Phil on the train platform and got on, finding a seat before they all filled. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any more incidents like last time. He didn't want to go through that again. He might have always been social inept, but he didn't like feeling like there was a bounty on his head because he looked suspiciously, or afraid, when he could normally grit his teeth and deal with people when they wouldn't leave him alone.

            He knew he had a personality that largely rejected society, because of his self-esteem issues, but if nothing else, he embraced it. Sarcasm was his weapon, irony his talent. He was happiest when quipping at others, even if he wasn’t trying to be offensive.

            Phil understood. He took the sarcasm in stride, had something just as crude to answer with when Dan had gone too far. He let Dan be himself, something far too many people asked him not to be.

            Dan considered starting a channel of his own. Maybe it wouldn’t be as popular as Phil’s, and he certainly had no clue what he’d even do, but maybe it could be his haven in between visits to Phil. It would be nice to have a place to let it out, to tell somebody else without worrying about the connections it could make. If nothing else, it could give him a reason to hole up alone and away from people. It would mean he could put off his assignments a little longer, even when he shouldn't. And maybe he could even make a little money off of it, and stop picking up terrible retail jobs that he was inevitably going to get fired from.

            He didn’t have to have a plan, but he knew if he was going to put the time and effort into a YouTube channel, he wanted the people who bothered to watch to know him for who he was.

            There was no point in putting a guise out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm late, i know, i'm sorry. but i come bearing the beginnings of a playlist and a soon-to-be moodboard, that'll be posted within a week(?) check out my tumblr (infinitehearts) for these good things to come :) or just yell at me to write faster, that works too.


	4. Chapter 3: Doubt

            If things had been bad before, they only got worse once he was finally home. Or, well, not home, but back at university where he was supposed to be.  Maybe if Dan were at home, sleeping in his tiny bed within mere meters of his parents, things could have been better, Adrian wouldn't have been there, unfortunately, so maybe the family wouldn't have been complete, but that could have been a good thing nonetheless. After all, Adrian had adopted the view that _Dan_ was the problem, that it was Dan's fault he wasn't getting to do the things that everyone else did.

            Dan had felt that same way only a few years prior, blaming Adrian for everything that didn't go his way. It was just the way siblings were, he supposed.

            Either way, he didn't alleviate him of needing to get to work on the things he'd neglected in his time of crisis. There were plenty of assignments that he was certain were late, and a few due in only days he'd yet to even start working on. He didn't even know why he'd picked law of all things to study. He'd been a good student and passed his A-levels with flying colors, but he'd picked each and every one of those courses. Law had a set curriculum, and he hadn't thought to pick any sort of elective that he was interested in. He'd picked things he thought would make him better at law, better at the thing he'd resigned himself to doing when he realized that acting could only ever be a pipe dream. It was stupid, of course, to give up something he was good at, but it felt more permanent than it should have been.

            He'd never actually know if it would have worked out now, but he was so caught up in the fact it wouldn't go well for him that he'd forgotten to even try. YouTube was probably the closest thing he'd ever have to being able to be on the big screen, and he still didn't know that he'd even try. Phil asked and asked, had even showed him things that Dan was certain he'd learned all on his own, and he still couldn't get past the nerves to even attempt to film a video, much less ever upload it.

            Maybe he wasn't supposed to figure out who he was yet, but he felt the need to know. He wanted to be sure that things would work out. Rash decisions had never worked in his favor.

            And yet, rash decisions might've been just what he needed. After all, he'd not looked at his arm since he climbed on that train, didn't worry about the chance of another flower sitting beside three peonies and a protea. It had been his nervous habit, to check, to make sure that he was still safe from the chance of lending his problems to yet another person. He'd dropped it, point blank.

            Phil had stopped his worry, somehow. He wasn't even sure himself of the how and why of it all, but he wasn't nearly as compelled to know now. There were still plenty of things he had to know to agree to just about anything, but he wasn't going to argue with the universe as much. Things had to go better than they had been going.

            After all, now he had a friend. Someone who didn't stop and stare and only offer to be around out of pity and worry. Someone who took him at face value.

            It was all he had ever wanted.

            He was going to try. A part of him knew he'd look back on it and hate it, but another part of him thought that maybe it would work out too. That he would finally have an escape from the worst of times.

            Escape. He'd always loved to be able to escape. The trips he took with his family, to places that he knew none of his classmates had been the highlight of his life. Maybe he wasn't ever to keep up with the things that he liked, even still, but he had seen the world. Parts of the world that were different, that might not have meant much to anyone else, but were nothing less than his own versions of Narnia. Each special in its very own way.

            When Phil was behind that camera, Dan had watched how it seemed like the rest of the world had disappeared, and it was just him and what he said. It was a place that nobody got to tell him what he could and couldn't do. Phil could be whoever he wanted to be, and people could see, they could say whatever they wanted to say, but no matter what they did, they couldn't force Phil to change. Dan knew that Phil wasn't going to change, unless he wanted to.

            That was the freedom he had with making videos, and Dan wanted that freedom. Dan wanted to be acknowledged as himself, for everything stupid he did, and he wanted people who'd stick around anyways.

            The only way he would ever find those people would be to put himself out there, and maybe it broke the only way of doing things he'd ever really known, but he _needed_ this.

            He needed to try this time, no matter how it would end.

            The classes he was already behind in drug on, and the classes he didn't mind as much seemed by be longer than the hour they were supposed to be. His pens were ravaged by the time he was done chewing on them. He wanted to collapse as soon as the door was shut, but he couldn't. Not if he was going to try.

            He'd already had one crisis that month, and he didn't feel like trying for a second that would push its way in if he let it.

            He only had his laptop to film with, but he was sure that he'd seen other students in the library once before using the same editing program Phil had shown him, so at least he might be able to make something out of whatever footage he managed to get.

            If things worked out, maybe he could look into getting a video camera instead of using his low pixel webcam. But he'd have to get that far first.

            It was more difficult than he'd ever imagined to actually do anything once he was standing in front of the camera.  He felt stiff,  awkward. Nothing would come out of his mouth when he opened it. He couldn't stand still.

            It looked so easy. It hadn't been easy to figure out what he wanted to do, of course, but he had figured something out for the time being. He could tell his story, make fun of the things that made him who he was.

            After all, anyone who knew who he was knew that was all he could do to make conversation more often than not. He didn't mean to, but it slipped from his mouth as easily as anything else possible. He was used to the self-deprecation. It was how he managed stressful situations.

            He couldn't exactly make that the first thing he did though, because nobody knew him. He was just some person to the people he was looking to reach out to, and strangers didn't just start a conversation by bad mouthing themselves.

            As hard as it was, he had to put himself out there on some level to get people to pay attention at all.

            His MacBook was going to overheat if he didn't do something soon.

            He could've turned it off, filmed whatever this was later, but he'd lose the little nerve he had if he did that.

            Maybe it would just be a one take run, and he'd have to take what he little footage might be good and try and make it cohesive, but he could, if nothing more, say he tried.

            It was all rambling, in the end. He cut out some of the more awkward parts with pauses and filler phrases that got him more confused about what he had been trying to say than his law books got him over their contents.

            He did leave some of the funniest bits in, or at least, he thought they were funny. Maybe they wouldn't be funny if he didn't feel like the walking dead, but he wasn't going to spend any more time thinking about it.

            If he worried about it any longer, he'd scrap the entire thing and never post it.

            The sun was too bright for England as it shone through the blinds. If someone had hit him with a truck, he thought he would have felt better than he did when he dragged himself out of bed.

            That was when it sank in.

            He had put his video on YouTube.

            He had said he'd have the first one that had real content up that weekend.

            He was fucked.

            The idea of having to plan for a video was not doing his brain any favors. After all, the only thing he knew he'd be showcasing was his sarcastic humor, and the how and why of that was as unprepared as ever.

            It wasn't nearly as bad as he first thought. Dan found it easier to talk to his laptop the second time around. It wasn't going to be perfect, by any means, but words came out every time he opened his mouth, he doesn't feel like he said _um_ multiple times per sentence, and he felt like he could relax a little more.

            The video he sets about making is a lot more involved, and a lot more stressful than he thought it would be, but it's fun too. It's the kind of thing that he likes to see. It's not going to be perfect, and he's pretty sure after he watches the footage back that he should have kept the angle the same as he'd had it in his first video.

            The sky is getting dark when the all too familiar ringing comes from his MacBook.

            He's more than a little nervous to admit to caving in and making his own YouTube channel.

            No, that's not it.

            He's nervous to admit that he likes having the channel. It's hard not to want to look at the views and his new subscribers. It's exciting to see the numbers roll up, even if it's a painstakingly slow process.

            The mouse pointer hovers on accept for a good minute, if not longer. Then the click comes and the screen changes.

            "Hey!"

            He chatters with Phil, and as much as he tries to keep the topic far away from the conversation, it's inevitable. Phil's always been insistent that Dan should start a YouTube channel. This Skype session isn’t going to be any different than any other he’s had with Phil.

            "C'mon Dan, when are you going to get around to making a channel? It's fun, and you'd be great."

            Dan goes pink in the face, his head falling sheepishly. "I might've, already, made a channel?" He doesn't try to pose it as a question, but he can't keep the lilt out of his tone.

            "DAN! You did it!

            This is the reason he had yet to tell Phil. The room he’s sitting in falls quiet. An ambulance passes by, the wailing making him wince ever so slightly. He’s not sure what else there is to say.

            “I… I just… night, Phil.”

            He ends the call and leans back precariously in his chair.

*****

            Phil’s more shocked than anything at this point.

            The screen of his MacBook goes black. The heater kicks on, rumbling to life like it takes so much more effort to bring the temperature up in the flat than the little machine has to offer, and the kettle whistles, left abandoned on the stovetop.

            Dan had ended their conversation. Dan had hung up on him for all intents and purposes.

            Dan wasn’t comfortable sharing his channel with Phil.

            Phil’s not sure he likes this tension. He knows, of course, it’s his own damn fault that it’s so tense in his tiny flat, but he can’t seem to pull himself to move.

            It’s because he can’t know if the root of the tension is Dan or if it’s him. He never wanted to force YouTube onto Dan, after all. Questioning the fact that maybe it was his own fault there too is what gets him. There’s no preluding notion that he’s not the one to blame for this. He knows he’d feel better if he talked to someone, but he also knows that his mum is probably in bed and Cat probably is sleeping too. Just because he and Dan find time to talk at night doesn’t mean his family and friends are going to pick up if he gives them a ring.

            Phil doesn’t look at his flowers on a regular basis. Or, well, that’s not exactly true. He can’t miss them when he showers, has to see them when he changes clothes, and even sometimes just looking down in the day to day because his arm is in his field of sight. But even though he is bound to glance at them, he doesn’t really pay attention to the flowers as individuals. He’s not exactly sure when he decided that it didn’t matter, but he’s glad that he did most of the time. It’s not like he sees his mass of black lines change often. Cat had been one of the only instances.

            Fate is going to make plans for him whether he likes them or not. If he doesn’t pay any attention to it though, it can’t hurt him nearly as much. That’s how he keeps going without so much struggle, so much of a pain to walk the line between making himself happy and appeasing fate.

            It’s not been a struggle until now to not look.

            Phil had never felt so weak as he did when he finally caved in. He shut himself in the small bathroom and pulled his shirt over his head, just to make it easier to see his flowers, because rolling up his shirt sleeve would have sufficed. He turned to put his right bicep in front of the mirror, carefully poking at each of the flowers there. One, two, three daffodils, for his mum, his dad, and for Martyn, his brother. One violet, for Cat.

            And the only one that was left was the sedum. The one he still had no idea about.

            The chill-bumps running up his spine didn’t make him feel any better.

            He knew there was no reason that he shouldn’t have bloomed for Dan if he was supposed to stick around. They’d been together all weekend. Every Chemistry class he’d ever taken had proved that flowering didn’t require touch for the molecules to react to one another. Touch made the bond more prevalent, often making flowers a little larger than average (around 6 cm at the longest point), but it certainly wasn’t that much of a difference to any other time.

            Even Biology found ways to attest to this. Chemical inhibitors could negate the presence of flowers, but the results were disastrous. He’d seen it with his own eyes years ago when his great grandmum had passed away. He’d watched his dad shrivel up in bed, shouting from the pain first before it turned into sobs. He wished he hadn’t woken that night, but maybe it was best he had, because he’d been the one to call for the ambulance that had the anesthetic strong enough to make his father stop hurting. He was eight then, and he was proud he’d been the one his mum had asked for help from as she held his father, but he’d also been jealous that Martyn had slept through that trauma.

            A second part of Phil wondered if he just didn’t know he’d bloomed for Dan. It didn’t seem like the likely situation, but he pondered it anyways. That sedum had always drove him crazy, and when he started recounting the conversations he’d had with Dan before, he wondered if maybe he could interpret ‘broken heart’ in a different way.

            It was too unlikely for him to let himself think like that.

            The sky was grey, and the clouds hung heavy in the sky. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. It hung in the air even as it came in windows, it made it hard to breathe. A blind eye couldn’t tell you anything different, but every hair on your neck would stand up as soon as you felt the air.

*****

            Dan couldn’t sleep. His room felt too warm, and too cold all at once. He’d barely just drifted off before he woke again, his meticulously straightened hair curling up on his head and chill-bumps covering his spine. He couldn’t remember having a nightmare.

            He had no clue what was making it so difficult for him to sleep, but he didn’t like it. He had class early in the morning, by his standards, and he’d already missed far too much class if he wanted to even stand a chance at passing.

            Law was a dumb, boring, but stable, degree, and he really felt he’d only lucked his way into his scholarship, and he didn’t want to have to pay for the classes he was taking and not enjoying. Even more so, he despised the idea of taking any of the classes over again.

            His second video wasn’t terrible, but the more he thinks about it, after it’s posted somewhere around midafternoon that Sunday, the more it makes him feel a little worse for wear. He deviated from the normal and threw it a little bit of acting, a few shots here and there not in his room. Those certainly could have gone better, could have looked better, but he had rushed, because he wasn’t going to break his promise.

            Not when the numbers only kept ticking up when he checked back. When people were paying attention to him for being his awkward, normal, self-deprecating, nerdy self. Maybe there were millions of kilometers and wires and screens between those people and him, but they offered to stay without an otherworldly promise, without _flowers_ , without any more than a hope for amusement or a sense of knowing someone else understood.

            He feels bad for refusing to let Phil in on it, when it had been his encouragement that had pushed Dan to make the channel. He’s ashamed he couldn’t let the first person who has ever feel like a friend to him, flowers be damned, in. He wanted to be able to be the same kind of friend Phil was for him back, but he supposed that he just didn’t know how to.

            Dan’s too nervous of a person to just let people in when they’re kind, he supposes. Now, at least. It’s a possibility it’s just because he’s eighteen, because he’s not sure that he can handle law and people all the time, not sure that he can throw up a facade any time that it’s too much to handle and hold his tongue to how he really feels. It’s impolite, for one thing, and he’s not got enough self-control to maintain anything he has to force.

            Phil’s been kinder than most people would have been, Dan thinks. He’s not tried to press the issue, and hasn’t tried to apologize either. Phil’s given Dan all the space he could possibly ask for. The best part is Dan didn’t even have to ask. The quiet and time was just there for him to take at will.

            He’s still not sure he’s ready to let Phil watch his videos, but he knows that he can’t just let things end like this. Phil’s the closest thing to a best friend he has. It’s why he’s still staring down his laptop, nothing open but the desktop background.

            The Skype shortcut stares back menacingly, like an unspoken challenge. The other desktop icons don’t pose a threat, but Dan almost wishes he could just uninstall the stupid program and throw his laptop out the window and watch it smash to the ground.

            He couldn’t _actually_ bring himself to do that, of course. His laptop meant far too much to him, and cost money he and his family certainly didn’t have to blow to replace it. It was still nice to imagine it sometimes, though.

            Not paying attention to his flowers goes against every instinct in his body, and clicking the Skype icon, clicking to call Phil for the first time in days.

            If Phil chooses to deny his call, or simply doesn’t answer, Dan’s not sure what he’ll do. He’s not really the type to get the guts to go against his instincts often. But if Phil answers, then he’s going to try to apologize first, for not showing Phil his channel sooner, and then he’s going to send him the link.

            It’s more tedious than ever, the wait is.

            But he doesn’t get an answer, or at least, not the one he wanted.

            Tears well up in his eyes, but he’s not willing to let them fall. Not until he knows that what he’s gone through is nothing more than a fluke. The world is never kind to him, and he doesn’t know why he expected any different. Fate is nothing more than someone else pulling the strings, and when fates are forged far before the day a person is born, there’s nothing to do or say to change it.

            His shirt quickly falls to floor, and he’s tugging his left arm in front of him, not bothering to move from his chair. The flowers there are the same one’s he’s seen for years now. Three peonies, and the stupid protea.

            If it wasn’t because there were people nearby, Dan would have screamed. But between sobs, it’s not like his housemates can’t figure it out. Something’s wrong, but nobody really cares. Students care about grades, more than the people around them. It’s not human nature, but it’s ingrained in their brains from such an early age, most people don’t realize that it’s not normal. He wishes that he could fillet the piece of skin with all his flowers off, and that getting rid of that piece of skin would get rid of his flowers forever. Things can’t be that easy, though. He knows that his flowers are the one part of his body that would always grow back. Trying to cut them off would just convince everyone he’s crazy. They’d put him in a padded room, make him talk to a shrink once a week, give him pills to make his thoughts fuzzy until he would spout off whatever bullshit they told him about flowers being a good thing.

            He doesn’t try to get rid of his flowers because he prefers his thoughts to be his own.

            One minute part of his brain tries to convince Dan that Phil’s not mad at him, that there is a perfectly reasonable answer as to why Phil didn’t answer him. Maybe he had family over and thought it would rude to run off to his computer. Maybe he was working on a project for one of his classes and the deadline for turning it in was close. There were millions of reasons that didn’t involve being completely hated, of course, but Dan was hung up on the one that meant that the closest thing to a friend he had was gone and ripped away from him.

            God was benevolent and righteous to some, but Dan was near certain that whatever sort of God was supposed to have put him on the Earth was vengeful and had long ago decided he could handle far more than it seemed anyone else had to handle. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

            He wasn’t sure how long he cried, nor did he know when he’d fallen asleep. His shirt was still on the floor, and his alarm clock was blaring on the other side of the room, although he wasn’t sure how long it had been blaring. His classes started at nine, and since his alarm clock was blaring already, he didn’t see any point in going. The clock didn’t feel quite so loud when he woke up at the right time with plenty of sleep.

            His laptop stared him down, Skype left open, the screen at full brightness. He slammed it closed and stumbled over to his bed, pulled the clock’s plug from the socket to make it shut up, and crawled into bed, hoping that maybe more sleep would solve all his problems.

            It wouldn’t, of course, but it was a nice thought. A thought that wasn’t of Phil, or law, or his family, or his shortcomings. Just returning to peaceful sleep, where things were black in his memory and things felt far less shitty than they were in reality.

            Sleep was kind, reality was not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this took forever... but updates should be normal now! As always, I wanna thank the lovely TrashFan for being an amazing beta reader.


	5. Chapter 4: Lost

             Phil was extremely glad Dan hadn’t abandoned him completely. He supposed that was the only reason he’d been able to convince his friend to come over and let him explain what had happened. Or maybe the only reason Dan was coming is because he wanted the drastic increase in subscribers that would come with the collab videos Phil had promised. He didn’t really feel the need to keep check on his follow count, just the same as he didn’t keep check on his flowers, but he wasn’t oblivious to the numbers. He couldn’t be, with the way he wanted to maintain interaction with his fanbase.  He saw the view count when he went to reply to comments after he posted videos. The subscriber numbers only varied slightly from that, he was sure.

            He wasn’t sure that things were any better, seeing as he still hadn’t been given the option to see anything Dan had made. He knew that if he wanted to search for it, he could, but Dan’s privacy meant more to him than that. Dan’s feelings meant more to him than that. He was being stubborn, in Phil’s opinion. It had been weeks since they’d first fallen out.

            There was no way he would ever know who the sedum belonged to, but he could make an owner up. He could pretend that it was Dan for the rest of his life. Friends didn’t have the same flowers usually anyways. He had a violet for Cat, and Cat had a chrysanthemum for him. They were just little reminders of the reasons why people became friends anyways.

            He wished he knew more about what all the flowers meant. But he’d never had a green thumb, was rarely around someone who would know all the different meanings of the flowers. He’d written once, for some language class, about the messages the flowers conveyed, but it was just a short paper, and he’d forgotten most of what he’d learned back then anyways.

            Perhaps, had he been able to grow plants for more than a two-week period, he would have studied botany instead of language and could have learned more about the language of flowers.

            He’d cleaned up the flat he inhabited this time, making it feel like even less of a home than usual. Dan was, by no means, an unwanted guest, but he had only cleaned because it felt like he was inviting a stranger in. He didn’t like the idea of Dan being a stranger yet again, with all that he now knew.

            He supposed he now understood how Dan had felt when he was waiting for Phil to answer. Phil’s biggest hope was he wouldn’t have to learn of how the disappointment felt too. He felt terrible as it was, for not being able to answer, because he had left his status as online the entire time, because his computer was mere meters away.

            But Martyn had come with his own woes, and Phil couldn’t justify walking away to make himself happy after he’d promised that he would be there as a shoulder to vent to, as a sounding board to help him decide what to say to Cornelia, and even just to help.

            Martyn had even told him to go answer, and he’d reminded him of his promise instead of doing what his brother said. It made Phil feel like a little kid, when Martyn would tell him things to do and to avoid because he’d done them a few years earlier already, and Phil always did whatever he thought was right instead, usually only bringing trouble on himself. He was in the same kind of situation now.

            The alarm he had set on his phone went off, nearly making him wet himself as he’d forgotten all about it. He’d told Dan he’d wait for him in the tube station, same as he had the last time Dan had come to visit. If he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t get there before Dan’s train arrived.

*****

            The ride had been better than the previous time he’d come up to York. Dan had his bag with his things slung over his shoulder as he stepped off the train, and surely enough, the first person he spotted was Phil. It was a little reassuring, that Phil wasn’t just being cruel to him.

            Dan wasn’t sure how he felt, even still. He supposed that was why he’d agreed to the trip. He didn’t know if he was angry, annoyed, or upset. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to forgive Phil and forget about, or forget about trying to be his friend entirely.

            He was at a loss, and he’d come to get the full story. The offer to collab had obviously been Phil’s idea of bribery, but Dan couldn’t care less about his subscriber and view counts at this point. He found solace behind the camera, telling tales of things that bothered him, he’d realized. The rest was nice, of course, but nothing compared to the weight off his chest as he confided his camera in on all his clumsy mishaps.

            Neither of them spoke much the entire way to Phil’s apartment. It wasn’t an easy silence, and Dan felt like the tension was nearly deeper than the smog from the pollution in the air, and it was an understatement to say you could cut it with a knife. He hoped it wouldn’t be this way all weekend.

            After the door was shut behind them, Dan let the most pressing issue slip first.

            “Did you not answer because you were pissed at me?”

            Phil looks taken aback. “That’s not the case.”

            “Then, what is?”                                                                                                                    

            “My brother was over. I’d promised him that I’d be there for him, because he’d gotten in a fight with Cornelia, his girlfriend. He was miserable.”

            Phil pauses, and Dan feels like he can see Phil’s internal debate of picking the right thing to say next. There’s remorse on his face, and it makes Dan feel terrible for not only assuming the worst at first, but for ignoring Phil’s attempts at trying to make it up to him because of what he’d assumed.

            “Martyn, he told me I should go answer you. I didn’t, but I should have. It felt like I would have been going back on my promise though, so I didn’t, even though he told me to. I was acting childish, and I went back on your trust by doing so. I’m sorry for that.”

            Even if Dan didn’t know Phil, he’d know that the apology he’d gotten was genuine. It’s so genuine, it makes him feel bad, because he knows that Phil isn’t the only one in the wrong. It’s his own fault that they’re in this mess anyways. Because he freaked out and wouldn’t just tell Phil about his YouTube channel.

            The only problem was he couldn’t find words that meant enough to show how terrible he felt. The room had fallen silent, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to apologize. At least, not right that second. He knew that he was in the wrong. He knew that he shouldn’t make Phil beg for his forgiveness. He knew Phil deserved an apology.

            But he wasn’t giving one until he figured out exactly why his stomach was churning, even now, when he knew the circumstance meant it was something so trivial.

            Or maybe it wasn’t so much a churning feeling. It was similar to the feeling in his stomach horror movies brought, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

            Dan didn’t go to great lengths to clear the air in the room. He cleared his throat and went about the tiny apartment like he owned the place. It was the only acceptance of the apology Phil had given that was coming for the foreseeable future.

            The air settled out when they sat down in front of the camera. It was difficult not to get caught up in the silly antics that they would post to Phil’s channel. It was silly, in Dan’s opinion, but it was the kind of content that people expected from Phil. After all, even he knew Phil’s channel was a light-hearted place.

            He’d planned the skit they were doing for his own channel before, earlier in the week between revising law book after law book. It was somewhere between serious and funny, but he’d liked the idea nonetheless. Except now, he wasn’t exactly sure of how he was going to explain it so that it didn’t sound like he wanted to do kinky shit to Phil.

            The sensation in his stomach grew as he fumbled over his words, but he kept it at the back of his mind. It was like he was going to puke, and he certainly didn’t want to do that while he was trying to film.

*****

            Phil was glad they’d made it through the day. He didn’t know what was going on in Dan’s head, still, but he’d been shown his channel. It only had three videos then, and he assumed that the collab they’d done earlier in the day would be the fourth soon enough. He didn’t see anything wrong with it, or anything over the top embarrassing in the first three videos, and even if he didn’t know why Dan had been so reluctant to share with him, he was glad he’d gotten to see it now.

            He felt bad about making Dan sleep on his tiny, shitty couch every time he came up, but he didn’t that his bed would have been any better. There was no way that it would ever fit them both comfortably, and it certainly wasn’t comfortable to begin with. It was falling apart, certainly not meant for someone of his height, and even though he made a little money from his YouTube career, if you could even call it that, it wasn’t enough to pay his bills and replace his bed. Even if someone would pay him for the shitty thing, he doubted he’d be able to scrape together the extra he’d need for a new bed.

            Black framed glasses sat on the bedside table next to the alarm clock with red digital numbers displaying 23:45 when the dyed black-haired man finally slept. The moonlight tried to peek in through dark curtains, and if it had, maybe things would have been displayed much more prominently.

            It did seem that Phil was doing quite a bit of unusual tossing and turning in bed, his left hand finding its way to his right bicep an awful lot more than it ever did. The motion was somewhere between scratching and pinching, and even though it wasn’t a conscious choice, it didn’t seem to be anywhere near regular.

            The succulent blossom was very clearly fractured the next morning, had either Dan or Phil bothered with paying it any attention. Great Britain’s weather demanded long sleeves and coats for braving any venturing outside in the brisk November air. Phil’d clad himself in a warm jumper upon removing himself from his warm pajamas, not even bothering with checking up on the flowers on his arm.

            He’d accounted the lingering numbness in his arm only to sleeping on it funnily. Not once did it ever cross his mind that it could be because the sedum on his arm was busted open, each petal cluster not only disconnected from the others, but their very center stem and leaves as well.

*****

            From breakfast until dinner, Dan found peace in just exploring York. It was something new, another set of places that weren’t truly his own, to add to the extensive list of places that he’d made sure to see the sights of. Even though he’d been so far as to Africa before, it was almost as if the memories he’d made of York were more special to him than any memory of his travels.

            He supposed, for whatever reason, that it was because York was the place that Phil called home, and Phil was his friend. It was different learning about a city from someone who’s major goal wasn’t to see how much money they could trick you into spending and to cover the major tourist traps in a way that would make you want to brave the crowds. Seeing the city with the eyes of a local, a local only with the intent of sharing his favorite places especially, made such insignificant things seem bigger, and the bigger things seem much more trivial.

            There was nothing quite as sad though, as going back to Phil’s apartment after the journey. It made the fact he’d have to sleep soon inevitable. Going to bed was a long beloved routine for him, even with slight insomnia, but he didn’t want to go to bed on this particular night. Going to bed meant acknowledging he was only going to be getting up and going back to Manchester. Sure, his family were there, his dorm room and his childhood bedroom, and the winter holiday was right around the corner, but Phil wasn’t there.

            He only had a couple of days away from the stress of law classes. By no means had he sorted out his head, but he wasn’t going to spend the entire time letting that get in the way of at least trying to relax. Dan had been more than willing to pretend things hadn’t gone so poorly when Phil had asked. They’d had plenty of awkward silences throughout the day, but they’d tried to keep things from getting tense. At least, for Dan, the sightseeing had made it easier to ignore the lingering tension in the air.

            In Manchester, Dan didn’t have anyone who could quite understand him in the way Phil did. He had mates, of course, because there was no way he’d ever be able to pass any of his classes without them around to help him out, but none of them felt like someone he’d ever confide in about his sorrows. And even though he loved his family dearly, they weren’t always the people to go to about what bothered him. They didn’t understand that there were some situations that medication couldn’t make go away. Another trip to a therapist wouldn’t help.

            Maybe he wouldn’t have Phil around forever, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that fact when Phil made his life better while they were friends, in the here and now. He had someone he felt like he could confide in, for once. They were best friends, at least in Dan’s mind, and he wasn’t going to let the first time he felt like there was someone who bothered to care go to waste.

            Fate might’ve been willing to separate them, but as far as Dan was concerned, it was so intangible that the idea was foolish. Scientists had spent years before he was born understanding the how and why of the flowers that would bloom. As foolish as they still seemed, there were years’ worth of studies and facts that went into detail about exactly what happened to make their stupid flowers bloom. He had no choice but to accept the science, as much as he didn’t like it.

            He fell asleep because he couldn’t will his eyes open any longer between his aching legs and his preoccupied mind.

*****

            Things didn’t get any better for him once he got back to Manchester. He’d hit his all-time low, and it seemed like things that couldn’t get worse were still trying to.

            The only thing he liked at the time, his YouTube channel, felt like it was falling apart. He couldn’t find the time to make videos and edit and upload them around his schoolwork, and the beginning of a shitty part time job he hated.

            Dan barely even had the time to be able to talk to Phil. Most of the time, when he just managed to steal the time to try, Phil was put on the side burner while he attempted to do fifteen other things he’d put off for far too long. He was falling apart inside because everything around him was slowly turning to chaos.

            The new year was right around the corner and all that he could hope for was some way to hold himself together through everything. He didn’t have the luxury of just enough time to escape to York with Phil for a chance to get his head together anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but things are heating up! And please, leave comments and kudos, they make me write faster!

**Author's Note:**

> A thanks to the lovely trash_fan for beta reading for me, and sitting through some extremely long world building emails.  
> Posting might happen once a week past the first chapter, but we'll see.


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